


The Magnus Records 032 - Perch

by ErinsWorks



Series: The Magnus Records [16]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast), The Magnus Records
Genre: AU: The entities are nice and the world is awful., Alternate Universe, Gen, I promise I'll make up for it with the next few, Only four more left till the grand finale!!!!!!!, Whoops it's short!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:14:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22446235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ErinsWorks/pseuds/ErinsWorks
Summary: In a world of deadly diseases and secrecy, perhaps Jane Prentiss would pursue less "alternative" wards against disease and misfortune. Perhaps she would still keep her faith. And perhaps she would despise the legacy of Jonah Magnus for an all-too-different reason.Here at the Magnus Sanctuary, London, we will find out.Start your interview. Share your hope.
Series: The Magnus Records [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1497773
Comments: 17
Kudos: 58





	The Magnus Records 032 - Perch

**MAG032 – DOCTOR PRENTISS – “Perch”**

**KEEPER**

The resignation letter of Doctor Jane Prentiss, found under a desk in what was formerly her office. Date of writing unknown, but presumably some time after her walking out of the Sanctuary in February of 2014. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, Record Keeper of the Magnus Sanctuary, London.

Letter begins.

**KEEPER (INTERVIEW)**

I don't trust you. I need that to be clear. I. Do not. Trust you. Whichever of you is listening, reading, silently bidding me to  _ share my secrets, get it all off my chest, free my feelings… _ I. Do not. Trust. You.

I have been helping you and your cause for so long, and you hid everything from me. I dutifully complied with all your  _ confidentiality agreements,  _ all your  _ waivers,  _ and  _ forms. _ I did  _ everything  _ this so-called sanctuary asked of me, in the pursuit of comfort and privacy. And yet you, you Caring Listeners, you call yourselves Secure, as you let your  _ secrecy _ hurt those you care for.

I've worked in medicine my whole life. In my youth, it was alternative: Nothing so evil as Essential Oils, mind you, just the odd crystal necklace to ward off illness. I still wear them, actually. I'm a practicing witch, or at least… A practicing pagan. But even as I practiced my faith, I understood that sigils and gems should be _additions_ not _supplements._ So I went into the study of more scientific medicines, of surgery and chemicals. I held my beliefs of course, but knew deep down that something as otherworldly as _magic_ and _spellcraft_ could never truly cure a disease like Argenvermi all on its own.

At least... That was what I thought. But you knew otherwise, didn't you? You harbor so many here, so many  _ magic people.  _ Stored in your many rooms, recorded in your many files, you had honest-to-god  _ proof _ of the supernatural. Do you know how many lives you could have saved, if you shared them all with me? Do you know how much faster I could've found my Flock? No. Of course not. It's not your business to  _ know _ things. After all…  _ you don't like to pry. _

That is why the flock flies away from this place, isn’t it? You want flaws to be shared in secret. You want the diseases inside people to fester and boil, only to be drawn out and cured one at a time:  _ out of sight, out of mind _ . You hide away your clutter and your rot and your sickness, like a  _ child _ hiding a mess in the closet. The flock… The flock attacks and strikes and kills away the disease. Because the flock knows what is best for people, it is not ambiguous, it is not unclear. The flock pecks away at the parasites, and leave what remains under the cold light of day, flawless and clean.

And you stifle it. You would not share the flock with the world, you would not cure every disease and clean every mess, because it would bring so much attention to _ the magic people _ . And their  _ comfort  _ and  _ security  _ is more important than their  _ lives _ to you, isn’t it?

… But I don’t need the sanctuary anymore.

There’s a perch, atop my apartment. Ravens. Birds that clean themselves, and keep their nest nice and neat. And they  _ sing _ to me. They tell me who is sick. They tell me who I can cure. They told me they could cure me, and I listened. They told me that all I had to do was be a perch. They would pick me clean, and it would be painless, and I would be free. I could be their symbiote, and they could be mine. They rest atop my shoulders, and nestle into the pockets of my coat, and sit in my lap, even as I write this. I stay, and I protect them. They stay, and they clean.

But it is not the Perch atop the apartment that gave me this power, not really. The perch was merely the face of it, that showed itself to me. Beneath the flock, there is a world of stainless clinical sterility, a world where life knows no disease, where the infinite flock sheds no feathers, a world where the ravens and tickbirds are  _ a panacea.  _ And that world is what sings to me. It is what tells me who I can cure.

And you hid it from me. I do not trust you.

But someday soon, you will not have the luxury of hiding your sick and your flawed from me. An epidemic is coming: Argenvermi will spread, and mutate, and get worse and worse. It will infect at rates it never could before. The flock tells me that. I cannot stop it, even if I so desperately want to... but it is almost a blessing in disguise. As the worms spread, the birds have more food. I will grow stronger. And I will save you from yourselves. Whether you want me to or not, I will save this place.

So this is my official resignation. See you soon.

With love: Doctor J. Prentiss.

**KEEPER**

… I cannot say that I am not somewhat shaken by this particular reading. Particularly in regards to her frequent remarks about  _ not trusting _ whoever finds that letter. I don’t know why, but it feels… oddly personal. As if directed at me in particular. Though, it is more likely directed towards Elias, particularly given the invocation of his  _ catchphrase… “I don’t like to pry”. _

Of course, what is more relevant is Doctor Prentiss’s connection to the supposedly supernatural elements of the sanctuary. While I could easily rationalize this frighteningly unstable letter as delusions brought on by the Argenvermi parasite in its late stages, that does not explain away Timothy Hodge’s interview, nor her encounter with Martin. And furthermore… I  _ feel  _ that this is true. I don’t know why I just… I think I’ve started to get a handle on knowing whether or not people are hiding things. And even in writing, this feels… legitimate.

I don’t think I’m going to share this with Elias. If he’s so keen to keep secrets, I think it’s only fair I start keeping secrets of my own.

**Author's Note:**

> THIS ONE IS SO STUPIDLY SHORT AND I AM S O R R Y
> 
> Loved writing this one though. Jane Prentiss has BIG Go Crazy Go Stupid energy in either TMA or TMR, and writing in her weirdly eloquent manic rambling style was just SO FUN. 
> 
> As for what's next until all this comes to fruition for season 1... So far all that's left is 033, 038, 039, and 040!!! If any of you really really REALLY want me to do any of the statements in between, now's the time to leave a comment. In any case, thank you all so much for your comments and kudos. The consistent love and appreciation for my work has really gotten me through the Tough Times lately, and I couldn't be more grateful for such a wonderful group of ~20-25ish readers. Lots of love, <3 !!!!!!!!!!!!


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